Pieces
by LovinNorman'sChestTatt
Summary: "Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it's all over." – Gloria Naylor
1. Chapter 1

I was running; that was all that was on my mind at the moment as I hauled my redneck ass down the main street of the corrupt city of Atlanta. As far as I could see, only one human remained: me. Behind me, hundreds of walkers, that's what one of my brothers called them, followed my human scent with nothing but hunger in their eyes.

Many called them zombies, because that's what they are. I, myself, stuck to calling them walkers because I never want to remind myself the zombies actually exist. I read about them in books and was crazy about George Romero films before the world went to shit, but they didn't prepare me for this reality.

It started out as a virus that seemed tamable. Soon it was found untreatable, and before the world had time to prepare, the son of a bitch went global. Symptoms included a raging, uncontrollable fever (which brought hallucinations into the mix), cold sweats and organ failure, which led to death. However, victims never stayed dead for long. Once the dead copied Jesus and rose back to life, they hungered for warm flesh. Then it was found that there was only one way to kill them: destruction of the brain. Well, I shouldn't say "found". Technically, Romero knew it before we all did.

Walkers are ghosts of their former selves. Their souls are gone to God only knows where, and now they're nothing but sacks of ugly, rotting, disease-bearing, flesh.

My thoughts were interrupted by a... car alarm? The sound of a roaring engine? Were these people crazy? They would attract every walker in Atlanta! Wait... that meant there were living people. Not walkers;_ living fucking people._

A red, Dodge Charger stopped beside me, siren blaring. The passenger window rolled down, revealing a driver, whom I knew very well.

"Glenn?" My voice cracked from excitement.

"Need a ride?"

Without hesitation, I got into the passenger seat and buckled myself in. "Ride on, cowboy."

I went to high school with Glenn, but I was a senior when he was a freshman. I even stood up for the kid a couple of times. He was one of the three kids of different race at our school, and I was the bitch no one messed with because of my brothers. Now that I was with him, I knew that everything would turn out okay... for now anyway.

* * *

We pulled up, slinging gravel, to a campsite that had made a home at the top of a large quarry a few miles outside of Atlanta. My eyes grew wide as dozens of people surrounded the Charger. One man, however, had a scowl on his face that would put a nun witnessing adultery to shame.

Glenn and I got out of the car, and he was suddenly bombarded with questions from a petite blonde.

"Pop the damn hood!" The scowling man yelled at Glenn, but since Glenn seemed busy, I reached in and pressed the button.

As he reached to unplug the alarm system, I began looking him over. I noticed he carried a rather large shotgun, and then I saw why. He wore a dark blue cap that had POLICE written across the top in white letters. His shirt was unbuttoned a little at the top, revealing a broad, tanned chest. His arms were muscular, his shoulders were wide, and his jaw was angled just right and straight. His hair was dark and curly on his head. Sweat glistened over his skin, and it was when I looked into his intense, brown eyes that I realized he was looking at me with a questioning stare.

"Celine?" Glenn's voice pulled me from my fantasies.

"Hm?" I turned my head towards him, but my eyes lingered upon the eye-candy-cop just a moment longer.

"Shane asked you something." Glenn said as he gestured towards the cop.

_Fuck_. "Say it again, please?" My lips went suddenly dry, so I quickly reached into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out my best friend: my chapstick. I wiped on a coat as he asked me the question once again.

"Where are you from?"

Oh my God. His voice matched his deep, definite features. I struggled to find my voice to answer him. "Outskirts of Helen. I'm Celine, uh-" I stopped myself. Did they need to know my last name? Of course not. "Celine."

As Glenn was listening to questions, he answered one that particularly sparked my interest. "Everyone made it out okay. Well... Merle... Not so much."

Oh no. That can't be the Merle that I know. With a group? No way. I shrugged it off. We're in the heart of Georgia. There could be a million Merles out there.

* * *

I was freezing as I sat next to Glenn. Night had fallen and we were sitting on logs around a small fire. I had my legs pulled up against my chest listening to Rick's , a man they had picked up in Atlanta, story. He'd been reunited with his wife and son when he arrived at the camp with the rest of the supply runners Glenn had been with, and now he was telling the group, well part of the group (a large, burly man and his wife and daughter were sitting at a separate fire next to us), his story as to how he awoke from a coma and ended up here.

I was getting stared at, which bothered me to the bone, by a few people and Shane was one of them. I was probably a sight to see. My dark blonde, shoulder length hair was dirty and tangled. My blue eyes were sunk in from a tad of malnutrition, my once white tank top was dirty and my jeans and boots were scuffed all to hell. I stank to high heaven, that I was sure of.

I felt weight and sudden warmth consume my shoulders. A heavenly, masculine smell filled my nostrils, and I realized someone had given me their jacket. That someone had been Shane. I nodded at him in thanks and he smiled back, but as he went to sit back down, the fire next to us sizzled as another log was thrown into the embers.

Shane was not happy about this action. "He Ed, you wanna rethink that log?"

"It's cold, man," the large man, Ed, said.

"Cold don't change the rules, does it?" Shane glared at Ed. "Keep our fires low, just embers, so we can't be seen from a distance, right?"

Ed obviously didn't give two shits about the rules. "I said it's cold. Mind your own business for once."

At this point, Shane walked over towards Ed's fire. Out of curiosity, I got up and walked over to the fire as well.

"You sure you wanna have this conversation, man?" Shane asked softly.

After thinking for a second, Ed looked at his wife. "Go on. Pull the damn thing out."

"Why don't you pull the fuckin' log out yourself?" I said under my breath , but it wasn't quiet enough.

"What'd you say, girl?" Ed asked.

I sighed. "I said, pull the fuckin' thing out yourself. You got arms and legs. You put it in there, pull it out."

"Now you listen here, little girl," Ed started, but I wasn't in the mood to bicker. I just walked away towards the trees that lined the camp. I figured I could sleep against one of them for the night.

I sat against a tree with Shane's jacket around me, and then I fell asleep.

* * *

I woke up to the sound of screaming. I threw a cover... cover? Since when did I have a cover? I looked around and noticed I was in a tent. When did I get into a tent? I shook my head and unzipped the tent to find my boots, but not before I noticed the smell. It was the same musky, handsome scent that I took in when I put on Shane's jacket; I was in Shane's tent. How the...?

Whatever. I'd figure it out later. At the moment, I had to see who was screaming. Were walkers nearby? I walked out into the open, and that was when I heard a voice that made my blood run cold.

"Merle! Get your ugly ass out here! Got us some squirrel!"

I was almost afraid to turn around, but something made me anyway. There stood my brother, one of the two that had left me for dead back in Helen.

"Daryl?"


	2. Chapter 2

Daryl dropped his strung up squirrel with his mouth gaping open. "El?" He began walking towards me with his arms open and a hopeful smile.

I, however, wasn't having that. I finally did what I'd been dreaming of doing for the past four weeks. I swung my balled fist at his jaw and cocked him a good one.

He staggered back a couple feet, holding his jaw in anger. "What the hell, woman?"

"That's for leaving me back in Helen, you son of a bitch!" I balled my fist again, ready to tackle him, but when I began running at him, a pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist, while another person held my wrists. "Let me go!" I struggled against the hard body behind me, then I looked at Daryl. "You both left me for dead! How the hell could you leave your fucking sister for dead?" I studied my brother as his expression went from angry to hurt.  
Daryl looked the same as I last saw him. He was wearing his favorite tan, cutoff shirt. Well, it was white at one point in time. It was the shirt he always wore to work on my truck, so now it was stained with dirt and oil. His jeans and boots were dirty from hunting, and his skin and hair were covered in sweat and dirt. His blue eyes were as crystaline as mine, and now, his eyes were full of swirling emotions.

I relaxed against the people holding me as a tear escaped my eye and rolled down my cheek. "You promised to take care of me. You promised." I sniffed. "I could've died, Dare. I almost did."

Daryl walked up to me and looked at the people behind me, signalling to let me go. It was then, that I recieved something from Daryl that I haven't had from him since we were kids. Daryl pulled me into a hug and just held me. My tears soaked into his dirty shirt and my arms wrapped around his waist.

His southern drawl filled my ears. "Thought you were dead, El. Merle said you were."

I lifted my head and let my arms fall back to my sides, and then looked up at Daryl with a confused look. "Merle told you I was dead?"

With guilt, Daryl nodded. "Where's Merle anyway?"

I looked around, searching for Merle, but found Shane and a black man standing behind me. I think his name was T-Dog, but I wasn't too sure. Now it made sense as to why I wasn't able to tackle Daryl. However, at the moment, Shane and T-Dog were looking at me and Daryl with looks of extreme guilt. "Shane," I began. "Where's Merle?"

Rick walked up to us next. "There was a problem in Atlanta."

"Is he dead?" I asked.

"We don't know."

"Who the hell're you?" Daryl asked Rick, who looked nervous as hell trying to tell us something about Merle.

"Rick Grimes."

"Rick Grimes," Daryl repeated with a mocking sneer. "You got somethin' you wanna tell us?"

"Is Merle dead?" I asked again.

"Like I said, we don't know."

Daryl wasn't taking this as lightly as I was. "He either is, or he ain't."

Rick took a deep breath and looked at me. "Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him to the roof of a department store in Atlanta."

"What?" I said loudly.

"Lemme process this," Daryl said, pacing back and forth, something all we Dixons do when were pissed. "You handcuffed our brother to a roof? And you left him there?"

I watched his knuckles turn white around the rop that held the squirrel, and I already knew what was about to happed. Daryl had been in numerous fights, and he had a habit of throwing things to distract someone before throwing a punch.

When the rope of squirrel left his fingers, I was already in action. I came up behind him and rammed my shoulder behind his knee, making him fall. In a hurry, I moved so he wouldn't fall on me, and as soon as he hit the ground, I sat on his chest. "Daryl," I said breathlessly. "Rick didn't do nothin' wrong. You know Merle! Are you really surprised?" Daryl had a look upon his face, but I kept talking. "You know I love Merle as much as you do, Dare, but you know he doesn't play with with others."

He began struggling, and I couldn't get a grip on him. He threw me off of himself and charged at Rick with his bowie, but this time, Shane took over and tackled Daryl to the ground and put him in a chokehold.

"You best let me go!" Daryl yelled.

Shane scoffed. "Nah, think it's better if I don't."

"Chokehold's illegal!"

"Then you can file a complaint."

I was hurt by Daryl's actions. He'd never acted this way towards me before. We protected each other; I was his little sister. I would save him from getting beatings from our father, and when I couldn't, I'd help him to bed and clean his wounds before tending to my own. He'd pick fights with guys who disrespected me. Merle and I, however, didn't get along so well. It could be the age gap between us. Daryl and I were six years apart, and Merle and I were ten years apart. Maybe it was because of his addiction to drugs. I know I shouldn't be one to judge, but Merle was killing himself, and I hated the way he acted when he was on a high.

Rick was now explaining to Daryl about Merle's actions and saying he was going back to get him. Shane had let go of Daryl and was now standing next to me. "You gonna go with them to get him?"

I thought about it. Yeah, I wanted to go, but I thought it was best if I stayed behind. "Nah," I shook my head. "I should stay here. 'Sides, I heard there was talk about laundry. Thought I might help with that."

Shane chuckled at my response. "Y'know, most women would be mad as hell to do laundry."

I shook my head with a small smirk, "I'm not most women. You'll come to find that out real quick."

I walked over to my brother, who was close to tears. My eyes widened at this. Daryl never cried, or not in front of me, at least. Never in my twenty-seven years of life had I ever witnessed Daryl shed a single tear; not even when our father used him as a punching bag. So this made me wonder: what had he and Merle been through together to make him act this way?

Daryl looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. "The hell d'you want?"

"I want to know how you're doin', Dare."

He stared at me with a look that crossed between bewilderment and anger. "What's it matter?"

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "I'm your fucking sister, Daryl. Don't you try to pin this on me."

"S'not like you care, anyway."

"Of course I care!" I said to him, "I'm just not surprised! Merle is an ass, Dare. You know how he treats me! He told you I was dead, for fuck's sake! He didn't even come to the house and see if I was alive! He's the one that doesn't care! In all honesty, Merle can rot in hell after leaving me like that."

Daryl looked at me with anger and began breathing heavy. "Don't you fuckin' say that!" He growled, pointing a finger in my face. "That's your own damned brother." He put his finger down. "To hell with you, if that's how you feel." With that, he stalked off towards a moving van to prepare to leave.

I, on the other hand, stood rooted to the ground in shock. Daryl really had changed since the apocalypse started. He had never been cross with me like that. Ever. I wanted to cry. I wanted to break down and throw things at my brother. I wanted to cuss him; to hit him. As much as I wanted to do those things, I knew I couldn't. So I did the other thing to do: walk down to the bottom of the quarry and start doing laundry.

* * *

"Can someone please explain to me how the women ended up doing all the Hattie McDaniel work?"

Us women, Jacqui, Andrea, Amy, Carol and I, were doing the laundry with a washboard, a bar of soap and the water from the quarry while Shane and Rick's son, Carl, were attempting to catch frogs for fun. Jacqui wasn't happy with the situation.

"The world ended. Didn't you get the memo?" Amy said. She was a petite blonde, not much younger than me, and was Andrea's sister.

Carol, Ed's wife, responded with, "It's just the way it is."

I scoffed at that. I looked back at Ed, who was smoking a cigarette and watching us from a distance. This was making me pissed and uncomfortable.  
While I was scrubbing, I stole a look at Shane, who was now sopping wet, and damn, did he look attractive.  
"I do miss my Maytag." Carol said.

"I miss my Benz," Andrea added, "my sat nav."

Jacqui closed our eyes and smiled. "I miss my coffeemaker with that dual drip filter and built in grinder, honey."

"My computer," Amy said glumly. "And texting."

"My straightner." I said with a small smile, remembering how difficult my hair can be.

Andrea stopped scrubbing. "I miss my vibrator."

I grinned at her and nodded, "Me too, honey."

Carol stole a glance back at Ed, and quietly said, "Me too."

This made us all start laughing loudly, causing Ed to walk his curious ass over. "What's so funny?"

"Just swappin' war stories, Ed." Andrea said, but as he came closer, she got irritated. "Problem, Ed?"

"Nothin' that concerns you," he replied, the looked at his wife. "And you oughtta focus on your work. This ain't no comedy club."

Andrea scoffed, the stood up. "Ed, tell you what," she said walking up to him. "If you don't like how your laundry is done, you are welcome to pitch in and do it yourself. Here." She tossed a soaked shirt at his chest.

He grabbed the shirt and tossed if forcefully back at her. "Ain't my job, missy."

"Andrea," Amy said. "Don't."

"What is your job, Ed? Sitting on your ass smoking cigarettes?"

Ed huffed, "Certainly ain't listenin' to some uppity, smart-mouthed bitch. Tell you what- come on," he told Carol. "Let's go."

Carol got up to leave, but Andrea wasn't done. "I don't think she needs to go anywhere with you, Ed."

"And I say it's none of your business." Then, he addressed Carol again, "Come on, now."

"Andrea, please." Carol said as she began to walk to her husband. "It doesn't matter."

"Hey," Ed said to Andrea. "Don't think I won't knock you on your ass just 'cause you're some college-educated cooze."

I'd just about heard enough at this point. I stood up with a large rock in my hand just in case I needed it.

"Now you come on now, or you're gonna regret it later." He said to Carol.

"So she can show up with fresh bruises later, Ed?" Jacqui said, "Yeah, we've seen them."

Ed laughed. "This ain't none of y'all's business. You don't want to keep proddin' the bull here, okay. Now I am done talkin'." He pulled Carol by her arm, but she resisted a little, causing Ed to hit her open palmed across her cheek. The women were pushing against him, but I jumped on his back and started hitting him on the back and started hitting him on the head eith the rock. I made the mistake of not hanging on tight enough and he grabbed my leg and ripped me off of his back.

I hit the ground hard with a thud. I smiled a little when I saw that there was blood trickling down his head, because I meant that I had hit him hard. Then, Shane appeared and pulled Ed by his collar and threw him on the ground. Without warning, Shane began punching Ed. One hit after another was causing Ed to bleed. I watched in amazement as the other women begged Shane to stop. Finally, Shane pulled Ed close to his own face and said, "You put your hands on your wife, your little girl, or anyone else in this camp again, I will not stop do you hear me?" Then he hit Ed one last time, "I'll beat you to death, Ed."

Shane then stood and looked at us, running a hand through his hair. The other women were either terrified of Shane or disapproving. I was smiling at him. I couldn't tell if I was more proud or turned on by his actions. I didn't know what it was, but watching Shane beat the tar out of out of Ed got me so excited and flustered that I wanted to screw him right then and there. _Damn_, I thought to myself, _what the hell is wrong with me?_


End file.
